


Sugar on the Bone

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Biting, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, Dominance, F/M, Finger Sucking, Jealousy, Light BDSM, Obsession, Overstimulation, Ownership, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, Shameless Smut, Yandere, clitoral stimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 06:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18068441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "It's really no surprise when Mayuzumi lets his true colors burst into a shower of fireworks that burn out against your skin. He pins you down against the bed you've shared for several months and digs his fingertips in against the pulse thrumming along the inside of your wrists. The light in his eyes has faded to the familiar eclipse of nightfall and the shadows that swamp his vision are visible behind the soft weight of his lashes. His lips are hot against your skin when he kisses you, opposite to the cool sharp drag of his teeth when he catches on your flesh with a salacious promise that adds to the radiant heat between your thighs." Mayuzumi grows jealous when he sees the way people look at you and decides it's time to claim you properly.





	Sugar on the Bone

You've made a few deals with the devils in your life, whether intentional or otherwise, you've always had a natural knack for testing gravity on the razor wire that keeps you miles higher than the average people beneath your feet. You have an affinity for the night and for as much as the sun is your friend, the moon is your sister. You unwittingly shake hands with the shadows that line your bedroom walls and dance with the demons who pretend at innocence in the dark. But knowing and understanding have very little to do with the decisions you make because accepting the truth wouldn't change a thing. You have found comfort while nestled in the arms of danger and wear obscurity like a second skin.

So it's really no surprise when Mayuzumi lets his true colors burst into a shower of fireworks that burn out against your skin. He pins you down against the bed you've shared for several months and digs his fingertips in against the pulse thrumming along the inside of your wrists. The light in his eyes has faded to the familiar eclipse of nightfall and the shadows that swamp his vision are visible behind the soft weight of his lashes. His lips are hot against your skin when he kisses you, opposite to the cool sharp drag of his teeth when he catches on your flesh with a salacious promise that adds to the radiant heat between your thighs.

You close your eyes as your spine comes away from the mattress but Mayuzumi presses a firm hand against your chest and pushes you down in an unstated command that bleeds dominance. “Open your eyes. I want you to look at me.”

You heed his request despite the gravity that opposes the action and look into his hungry gaze. “Care to tell me what's gotten you into this mood?” you ask him, your voice thick and shot-through with honey.

Mayuzumi seems to consider the question for a moment, his motion turning over to stillness when he looks down at you, _into_ you. “I suppose it wouldn't be much of a lesson if I let my reasons for this fall by the wayside.” The hand pinning your wrists together shifts and the sudden release of pressure brings unexpected relief as circulation returns to you. You flinch involuntarily when Mayuzumi strokes his fingers over the contour of your cheekbone, too lost in his gaze to track the motion. It startles you and he laughs for it, his mouth breaking into a crooked grin that sends a shiver curling around the entire length of your spine. “You're so beautiful, ____. You know that? Everything about you drives me crazy; the way you look, the way you smell, the way you _taste_. The stupid little things you do and the offhanded way you say things. There's nothing about you that isn't perfect. Which is exactly why I feel the need to do this.”

Mayuzumi lightly traces the shape of your bottom lip with his index finger and you can't help but give into the shudder that follows the sensation. You moan something unintelligible, and when the sound meets your ears you have to focus on the task of blinking Mayuzumi back into clarity before framing your lips on coherency. “Do what, exactly?” There's a trace of fear in your tone that you're not used to and you wonder if magic is real for the spell it appears you're under.

“Claim you,” is Mayuzumi's answer, given as simply as what flavor of coffee he wants for the day. He blinks once and slides his tongue out between the seam of his lips, his eyes never leaving your face. “I see how people look at you. Their desire for you is so tangible that I can almost taste it. It makes my blood run thick with rage and when I see how they undress you with their eyes I want to hurt them.” Mayuzumi slides the weight of his hand down the smooth column of your neck and before you can form your thoughts into an audible response, his fingers close around your throat. “I want to hurt you for allowing it. I want to steal the breath from your lungs for not seeing how much they want you. You belong to me, your body, your thoughts, your _breath_ all belong to me.” His fingers tense and he squeezes your throat as if to underscore his sinister message—or perhaps to crush your trachea under the pressure of his grip. You reach for his wrist but the threat of asphyxiation is lost almost as soon as the realization came to understanding because he's letting go in favor of tracing the underside of your jaw with his cool fingers. “You know why, don't you? Why those things belong to me?”

You press moisture into the dry cracks that have taken over the shape of your lips and furrow your brow in consternation because you can't seem to draw up an appropriate response to appease him.

“It's not a trick question,” Mayuzumi says, his voice low and as clear as the breaking of reason spreading to light over your thoughts. “The answer is simple: you are mine. And when you're mine, you're wholly and completely in my possession. I don't want you to see others as they see you. I don't want you to need anyone like you need me. I want your attention and all of your focus. I want you to lose yourself without me. I want you to want me when I'm not around.” Without any facet of warning, he slips a hand between your thighs and presses his fingers in against your sex. “I want you to crave my touch so desperately that you get wet at the sound of my voice, the mention of my name.”

“'Hiro, that's impossible. No one can train their body to do something like that,” you say, struggling with speech for the friction burning beneath the pressure of Mayuzumi's fingers.

Mayuzumi's mouth tilts into a wide smile that's nothing more than a reflection of the avaricious wolf running through his bones. It's cold and cutting and entirely unlike the apathetic personality of the boy you've come to know. It alone should be enough of a warning to send you running far out of his reach, not to mention the severity and significance of his words; yet, for some reason, you want to run your fingers through his hair and draw him closer. You can't entirely parse the reason for wanting him like this and you have every reason to believe that submitting to his proverbial contract is no different than willfully bringing the slaughter to the lamb, but something makes you thirst for the poison he's presenting to your lips.

“I guess we'll have to wait and see,” Mayuzumi drawls, and you know that only several seconds have passed since you last spoke but it feels like an eternity of silence has outstripped the room's natural backdrop. His voice strings you into sound and when he slides his hands up your thighs, right up to your hips, you can't keep the chords from rising higher. He hooks his fingers around the elastic of your panties and works them down the length of your legs before you can offer up any semblance of defiance. He peppers your legs with kisses while shucking his jeans effortlessly, taking his own undergarments away with them.

He blankets you with his body before you can steal a glimpse at his member but when he settles between the open fall of your knees, its state is made obvious: hard and hot and heavy against the damp of your arousal. He says nothing as he lines himself up to your entrance and fucks into you with a single, brutal thrust. It should hurt considering the force of it but somehow pleasure manages to override pain and the friction is just short of intoxicating. You lift your arms to drape them around his neck but Mayuzumi is quick to pin them back down against the bed. He undulates his hips and the drag of his cock makes pleasure spin out across your skin. He shakes his head slowly and pushes down on the weight of your appendages in a gesture of silent warning before he returns a hand to your hip.

His hold is firm and bruising and everything about the entire exchange should feel wrong—you suppose—but it doesn't. It's everything you never knew you needed and everything you've always wanted. You close your eyes but quickly remember his earlier demand and open them again. The corner of his mouth twitches into a small smirk and you wonder if this is what it means to be submissive—to follow every detail he's mapped out for you while you heed his directive as though he's buried deep inside you with his roots entwined.

“That's my girl,” he praises, sliding a hand down the length of your arm to then lift his fingers to your lips. You open your mouth involuntarily and no sooner than you part your lips is he pressing his digits in against your tongue. “Get them nice and wet for me. I need to reward your obedience.”

You suck the salt and the heat from his skin as the bracing hold at your hip goes tighter. Mayuzumi rocks his hips forward and exhales a sigh that breathes relief. He rolls his shoulders back and the tension tugging at his limbs seems to lessen, seen in the way his body slips into automatic reflex. His hair hangs in his eyes when he dips his head forward, and his lips are slick with saliva like the glistening moisture catching at the corners of your mouth. He looks equal parts dangerous and beautiful and all you want at that moment is to offer yourself up to him, to _show_ him that you don't belong to anyone else.

“Tell me that you're mine, ____,” Mayuzumi rasps as if he can see your innermost thoughts written across the fine sheen of sweat catching on your skin. He removes his fingers from your mouth and lowers his hand to the soft skin just above the thrumming pulse of your sex.

“I'm yours,” you whisper, breath hitching when Mayuzumi snaps his hips forward roughly.

“Good girl,” he tells you, the bittersweet commendation like an offering that purrs into a blessing in the dark of his throat. He slides the wet of his fingers over your clit and by the time you realize that you're caving to his touch, it's too late to call back the hiss of air that catches between your teeth at the sensation. “Don't hold yourself back. I want to see all of you. I want to watch you fall apart beneath me.” Mayuzumi begins to work his fingers faster, the firm resistance of his touch against the slide of friction enough to drive you to near madness. “I've wanted to know what you would look like with me fucking you for a long time.” Mayuzumi cants his hips faster and slams himself home with a sense of dedication that seems misplaced for the occasion. “I like making love to you, ____, but there's something about the concept of you being covered in my bruises like you're _wearing_ my touch that makes hurting you worth all of the chances I'm taking.” Mayuzumi ducks his head and sets his teeth against the juncture of your neck and shoulder in a teasing gesture that shatters the second he bites down hard enough to break the skin. However, when he draws back and into your line of sight, there's no blood where you expect it. “Then again, is it really a risk when you're so wet it makes fucking you an obstacle? It seems to me that you're enjoying this just as much as I am. In fact, I think it's safe to assume that you like me this way.”

You feel heat rise up the line of your throat and creep into your cheeks. There's something in the sound of his voice that makes you feel ashamed but the feeling only adds to your arousal, and you can't help but feel satisfaction when you tighten your muscles around Mayuzumi's cock and he gasps himself into pleasure. “I'll like you no matter what,” you tell him, straightening your arms out above your head to take your wrist into your own hand to avoid the temptation to reach out and touch him. You consider the magnitude of your confession, knowing that such an admission could seal your fate but you can't bring yourself to care.

“Should I put that to the test?” Mayuzumi asks, his timbre vibrating low and thick. But it's obvious that he's not expecting an answer because he's fitting his lips against your own to kiss you like tomorrow's sun won't rise. He kisses you with passion and raw emotion that spreads to heat across your lips and tastes like liquor when he slips his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you like he's dying and you're broken and all hope is lost. His arms begin to shake and his rhythm loses its cadence as his control starts to falter. He rests his forehead against your own and opens his mouth to speak, his lips brushing against your own when he says: “Touch me.” It's a simple request and it's all you need because your arms are sliding around his neck and your nails are dragging down the stretch of his back on autopilot.

“Chihiro,” you whisper, shuddering as you find peace in the violence of the storm he's injecting into your veins. The whisper of his name seems to trigger something within him because he's fucking into you harder and faster, his ministrations picking up equal pace that sends white light dancing behind your eyes. You whimper a sound that strains into something high-pitched and almost squeaky that makes you blush. It's a physical suggestion that plays at embarrassment but inside you're too tangled in a web of carnal emotions to feel inhibited. “I'm getting close,” you tell him, your voice quivering in the back of your throat so much the statement sticks to your tongue.

“Don't come until I give you permission,” Mayuzumi says in an undercurrent of warning.

You nod in lieu of response and press your fingers in hard against the roll of Mayuzumi's shoulders for purchase. You focus on the rhythm of your breathing and fight against the shocks of pleasure branching out like lightning between your legs. You whimper and moan and just when the room turns over to a blanket of monochrome haze for your temporary loss of sight, Mayuzumi grants you mercy. Your spine comes away from the bed as your legs stretch taut and your toes furl against the duvet. You lay the promise of your own bruises on Mayuzumi's back and scream his name under the neon moon when satisfaction surges through you.

It takes you a moment to come down from the heights of your climax and to crawl out of the ditches of your pained pleasure. It's all too much and not enough, and you almost lose yourself to the feeling but Mayuzumi is drawing himself free of the confines of your body and it's only then that you realize that there's nothing on your skin to indicate his capitulation and that he's still very much aroused.

“Hold out your hands,” he tells you, his voice straining and thick.

You do as you're told in such a way that makes you wonder if you're merely a marionette held up by a single string. You present your hands to the boy in front of you and wait almost eagerly as he stokes over himself roughly, the slick of your body aiding his calculated motion. It doesn't take long before he's spilling sticky ropes of emission into the palms of your offered hands, his breathing labored and his skin slick with sweat.

He cards his clean hand through his hair and you wait patiently as he regains some semblance of control over the framework of his mind and body. “I want you to wear it for me,” Mayuzumi says, his gaze settling over the light of your own. “I want you to mark yourself, and when you do, I want you to tell me who you belong to.”

You feel the familiar edge of uncertainty creep back into your thoughts, stitching apprehension into your skin like a red herring but it's gone almost immediately. You smear the viscous fluid onto your body and into your skin under the heated stare of the unsound male you've given yourself over to. “I belong to you, Chihiro. I'm yours.” You lift your head and meets his eyes, still dark despite the fire burning behind his gaze. “I don't want anyone else.”

Mayuzumi steps forward and sinks his fingers into the messy fall of your hair. He tugs you close and presses your face in against the low of his stomach as he idly strokes your tangled strands. “I'm happy to hear that. I don't know what I'd do without you.”

You can't pinpoint the exact moment when you managed to fall even deeper into the depths of darkness but it doesn't really matter because you've never felt at home in the sun and Mayuzumi just so happens to be your perfect shade.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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